End Game - Taylor Swift

32 🫂

The week after the trip to Australia seemed to drag on for forever. Every moment I wasn't working, I found myself consumed by guilt. Thoughts of Alex, and of what I had done, plagued my mind constantly. The only exception seemed to be my time with Riley, when I could forget about everything else, if only temporarily.

I sat on the couch, my eyes glued to the TV as the match played out. Alex was on the field,  The game was an important one, and she was already giving it her all.

Riley, who had come over uninvited, was lounging beside me, critiquing every play with exaggerated sighs and eyerolls.

"She should have passed there," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "That was a perfect opportunity, but she just gave it away."

I shot her a sidelong glance, annoyed by her negativity. Alex was doing just fine. In fact, she was doing great.

But Riley didn't seem to care. She kept up her steady stream of criticisms, tearing apart every play Alex made, no matter how good. It was starting to get on my nerves.

"You know," I snapped, finally losing my patience, "if you're just going to sit here and rag on every move she makes, you can leave."

Riley looked at me, eyebrows raised. "What, I'm not allowed to have an opinion?"

"You can have an opinion," I said, trying to keep my voice even, "but that doesn't mean every single thing Alex does is a mistake."

Riley rolled her eyes, leaning back against the couch cushions. "I'm just saying, this is an important game. It's not like they can afford to make a bunch of wrong calls." 

The game continued, and Alex was passing the ball when suddenly, she was knocked over by another player. She went down hard, her body hitting the grass.

I winced at the impact, my heart stopping for a moment. It looked like a pretty bad fall.

The referee blew his whistle, signaling a foul. The game paused as Alex slowly sat up, rubbing the back of her head. I could see the pain etched on her face even from here.

A trainer ran out onto the field, tending to her. But Alex waved them off, getting unsteadily to her feet. She was a tough one, my girlfriend. She refused to let pain stop her.

The ref motioned for play to continue. Alex took the ball, a steely look in her eyes. Clearly she was playing through the pain. 

I leaned forward, my heart in my throat. I just wanted her to be okay.

This was it. Make or break. If Alex scored this penalty kick, the match would be over and they would win. 
The tension in the air was tangible as she positioned herself in front of the ball, her eyes focused and determined. I leaned forward, my heart pounding in my chest.

She took a few steady steps back, sizing up the goal. Then, with a smooth movement, she launched the ball forward. It sailed through the air, heading straight for the goal.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the ball slammed into the back of the net with a resounding thwack. It was in. The crowd erupted into cheers.

I jumped up from the couch, cheering loudly. Across the screen, I could see Alex being swamped by her teammates, everyone celebrating. She had done it. She had won the game.

"Yes!" I yelled, pumping my fist into the air. "That's my girl!"

Riley, who had been strangely silent during the whole thing, suddenly spoke. "Lucky shot," she said, her voice filled with disdain.

I turned to her, irritation and disbelief warring within me. "Lucky shot?" I repeated, my voice raising. "She just won the game! That wasn't luck, that was skill!"